


Casual Acquaintances

by HyperMint



Series: Summer Contacts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, NCIS, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:36:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperMint/pseuds/HyperMint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's POV as he visits Baker Street and once again meets up with the famous Boy Who Lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, Sherlock, or Harry Potter. It's just nice to play with them.
> 
> AN: If you know about Sherlock Holmes, in general, than you know the famous detective. Sherlock is a BBC show putting the detective in the 21st century. It's really awesome and I highly recommend it to anyone who likes mystery. It's cool, but it's sort of confusing trying to keep up with it. 
> 
> Also, something you should know. In the show, everyone thinks that John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are dating. There's a sizable fanfiction base on the pairing in all forms, and I happen to be a fan, myself. Just to let you know, there's no actual slash in this story, but I had to at least try to stay in the spirit of the show. 
> 
> And who knows. Maybe, in the future, Sherlock will meet the Trio.

 

***

Tony felt the excitement race through him as the Day grew near. 

He had his ticket, his spot designated, his wand, his portkey, his ever present knife… he was missing something.

Tony knew he was missing something. 

He was in the middle of going over his list in his mind when he entered the lab of their favorite forensic scientist.

Abby - for once - had her music off and was at her desk in her office, practically vibrating with excitement at something on her computer screen.

“Hey, Abs,” he called out, moving through the lab. “What’s -”

She shushed him and held a hand. “I’m busy.”

She looked nothing like it, but her olive green eyes scoured her monitor, her smile growing as her eyes adopted an adoring glint.

“He’s just really awesome,” she sighed, leaning back with a dreamy smile. 

Tony eyed her, not for the first time comparing her to -

Oh.

That was what he was missing…

The man would know - he always did - and would never let him hear the end of it.

‘Now, where does he live again? Barker? Billing… Borust … Baker! That’s it, Baker Street… uh oh…’

“Now, that I’ve finished,” she spoke up a few minutes later, opening her eyes and beaming up at him with renewed energy. “Are you ready for vacation?”

‘I should be able to drop by before my portkey goes… it’ll honestly not do to just ignore him. He somehow knows when I’m in London and I still can’t figure out how he does it. Well, in Muggle London, anyway.’ Diagon Alley had been declared neutral ground.

The last time he’d been there and came back, a postcard came in the mail some days later. 

_‘T-_

_  
_

_I should hope you know better than to expect your arrival in London go unnoticed. I was rather looking forward to a cup of coffee. Ah, well. Next time perhaps?_

_  
_

_S’_

Tony had laughed when he found that his old friend had foregone ‘tea’ in his little reminder. Tony had had enough tea thrust on him by well meaning people that when his friend had decided to play the dusty role of host, Tony had almost blown up one of the man’s experiments. 

As it was, Tony’s accidental magic had done something to the skull and he had ruefully ended up mailing it back as he discovered it in his closet when he had come back to the states.

“Tony?” Abby waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Anyone in there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Vacation. Right. Uh, I’m just here for what you have for our robbery case…”

“Oh, I wrote it up for you,” she reached over and snagged the file. “How’s everything going up there?”

“Not bad,” he glanced at the case file in his hand. “Who were you fantasizing about anyway?”

“I was not,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s just this guy from Britain. He posted up something new on his website and I am completely blown away by it. Have a look.”

He peeked over his friend’s shoulder and smiled ruefully as he was face to face with the Science of Deduction.


	2. The World's Only Consulting Detective

Scenarios ran through his head as grey eyes stared ahead into space. 

There was a connection there, he just had to find it.

What connected the maid to the cook?

Why would someone deliberately target the wrong person, other than to throw off investigators?

How did the sister know what her brother found out just minutes before?

Who was the actual target?

It took some doing, but the connection was finally, finally made. All that was needed was confirmation of some of his theories and the puzzle would be as good as solved.

Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and smiled in victory.

How he loved puzzles. Mysteries at their most complex were some of his most favorite things.

Breathing in, he suddenly frowned as he realized that someone was making use of the kitchen. Breakfast if he was any judge.

It was mid-morning by the angle with which the sun hit his spot and John had a shift at the surgery today, so it could only mean that Sherlock’s friend, flat mate, partner and whatever else he needed at the time, John Watson, was busily preparing for the day to come.

As he opened his eyes, he was forced to review his observations. It was in fact mid-morning and breakfast was being made. However, the pair of familiar green eyes watching him from the counter were not of his friend’s. Instead, they were the eyes of one of the governmental employees of the world that he actually respected.

“I was wondering how long you would be,” Tony DiNozzo quipped, eyeing the other man. “Your friend is still on vacation and should be back sometime around next Wednesday.”

“Your unique abilities, then?” Sherlock gracefully rose and joined the Italian, settling into the seat across from him. Tony huffed a laugh. 

“No, he wrote you a note,” he teasingly held up a post-it with John’s familiar writing. “Haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

The Detective just smiled slightly as he watched his old friend prepare him a plate with eggs just the way he liked them. Normally, he wouldn’t touch a thing to eat for days while on a case - as both Tony and John knew -, but he had just solved it and he saw no harm in having a small portion of one of Tony’s specialties. 

Well, it was either that or suffer the humiliation of Tony having to feed him. Again.

It was some months after they had met, and Tony was just settling in at his job in Philadelphia, and Sherlock had just so happened to be in the area to check up on a few things.

They had met for a few hours to catch up, as it were, when Sherlock had inevitably collapsed. Since then, Sherlock would grudgingly cooperate whenever the Italian was having something to eat by partaking in some of what he was making. Tony had evidently found that the stubborn Brit would eat anything he made and that had been that.

Sherlock, of course, had put up with it because Tony was Italian and was, therefore, affectionate and prone to fussiness if the object of his current attention was refusing to be a good Consulting Detective and eat his food. And sleep, but that was another story entirely.

“When did you arrive?” Sherlock seasoned his eggs just so and started nibbling little bits off his fork under watchful eyes.

“Yesterday morning,” he grinned in that teasing way that Sherlock had always associated with others as a demeaning statement. Tony was actually teasing him in nothing more than good spirit. “I had some errands to get together in the Alleys and haven’t been here much.”

“Key, I trust?” He had sent one to Tony when John had agreed to live and share the flat with him.

“I’m not nearly at your level of lock-picking and it was sort of risky using the other way,” he shrugged. “Especially as I’m sure that your flat mate wouldn’t be very happy if I set the wards off by essentially breaking in.”

Here, Sherlock blinked. Although his discovery of Tony’s magic had been an accident, Sherlock had taken it in stride, just another facet of the Italian that couldn’t be helped. Another piece of the puzzle that made his friend up. “You put wards on Baker Street?”

“Not me, no. Let me tell you, though. I’m glad you found another like me to live with,” Tony shook his head. In his experience, magic was probably a good thing to have if you were going to be looking after the curly haired nutcase. Tony was actually astonished that the man had lived this long without it.

“John has magic, then,” Sherlock let that assimilate for a second. 

“It’s been a year,” Tony pointed out. “Don’t tell me you’re just now figuring it out. I’ve been told that we have a tell that’s very easy to see if you’re looking for it. I would’ve thought you saw him acting like me sometimes.”

“I’ll admit the scenario hasn’t crossed my mind,” he would have been very uncomfortable in his admission if it were anyone else.

“Well, I suppose your friend didn’t want you to know so I guess he had to be extra careful,” Tony mused, sipping his coffee. It wasn’t impossible, but it was very hard. Then again, Sherlock had a problem with not seeing what was right in front of him…

Sherlock nodded absently, sipping his tea. It was probably because he hadn’t been looking for it. “I presume you’re here for a reason.”

“Just making sure you haven’t done something stupid and irreversible like blowing yourself and the flat up.”

“You know I’m careful.”

“Yeah, sure you are. Which reminds me of an unfortunate incident in Cuba.”

“Very unfortunate,” he smiled innocently as Tony snickered. “Completely accidental.”

“I’m sure.”

***


	3. Cases, Spies and Friendly Good-byes

Tony huffed slightly as tried keeping up with the curly top as he led him this way and that. It was his fault, having opened his big mouth about something in the paper. Evidently, it was related to his current case and Tony had been hurried out of the flat much in the same way Watson would have been.

He promised himself a particularly stupid antic to do at the office so that his punishment would be delivered fairly. He had once wanted Holmes to do it, but it was apparently better to slap the Detective than have the reverse done. At least Tony hadn’t spent three hours trying to explain why like he had the last time. It hadn’t been worth it.

At least if Gibbs slapped him, it was justified. And didn’t need clarification.

Tony felt he needed one, particularly hard. He should’ve known better than to draw Sherlock’s attention. He’d had the experience…

He pulled up short as Holmes suddenly stopped. “Well?” he wheezed, bending over.

“Just as I suspected,” he smiled manically at the bush he’d stopped in front of. “I can’t believe no-one’s thought about it! It’s brilliant.” He whipped his phone out and Tony resigned himself to spending some time in the presence of New Scotland Yard.

Which is what happened twenty minutes later, arriving at the original scene of the murder. 

It wasn’t very long before the Yarders noticed the Italian being dragged by the wrist into the modest one storey house. 

“Ah, Agent DiNozzo,” DI Lestrade smiled warmly at the rarely seen figure. He still wasn’t entirely sure of how DiNozzo had ended up knowing Holmes, but he enjoyed wondering about it. Though, it did make him frustrated sometimes, especially when Tony would dryly comment on something that had happened in the past and Sherlock would give him a teasing smile and an equally dry comment in return.

“Inspector,” he smiled wryly back. “If I told you to slap me really hard on the back of the head, would you do it?”

Greg simply chuckled at the oft heard request. It only figured that the quirky Brit had a quirky friend of his own. “Not my thing,” he tossed back. 

“I told you,” he scowled as Sherlock pulled him past. “It’s a work habit.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

“Then stop laughing every time you say that,” he twisted around to scold him. Greg just smiled as he followed them.

Leaning against a wall, the Inspector watched Sherlock do his thing. Tony was dragged as the Brit solved the case for them. ‘ ‘Casual acquaintance’, huh?’ he smiled slightly, listening with half an ear as he watched. That was how Tony had been introduced to him. He’d believed it, too. Right up until the Italian showed up at another crime scene. 

Over the years, Tony was seen at a number of crime scenes, but only every few months or so. Not like John Watson, where he was constantly being dragged to all kinds of scenes on a daily - sometimes hourly - basis. He wouldn’t say this aloud, but Greg found something of a kindred spirit in the Italian, especially where Sherlock Holmes was concerned. Since Tony was something of a law enforcement officer himself, Greg found a sympathetic ear when dealing with Holmes was getting to be too much. It was during one of those times when Tony had told him that he and Holmes had once met on a case. 

Then, somehow, Tony had been… well, for lack of a better term, adopted. Neither was sure if Sherlock knew it or not. Watching Sherlock point something out to Tony, Greg couldn’t help thinking that if John Watson was Sherlock’s ‘boyfriend’ or ‘husband’ as they were all half-convinced he was, Tony DiNozzo was the best friend/ older brother/ favorite uncle figure that was dragged off to play in good humor. He’d had a conversation once with one of the others about why Tony wasn’t a candidate for dating Sherlock as John was. The argument was that no-one could see it.

Watching Tony start deducing things in Sherlock’s manner, he couldn’t help but agree that they were honestly a bit too alike to be dating each other. And to be honest? Tony DiNozzo acted more like a brother than Mycroft Holmes ever did.

“… and if it wasn’t for, what was it again, Sherlock? Oh, yes, the rake. If it wasn’t for the rake, I’m pretty sure that the painter would’ve gotten away with the four jewels and the necklace, but then, Inspector Lestrade could’ve figured that one out for himself.”

“Of course I could have,” he told them, tuning in. “It’s pretty obvious that - _what_ painter?”

“You see,” Tony turned to the amused Consulting Detective with a victorious grin. “I told you he wasn’t listening.”

A bit too alike indeed.

***

That next afternoon, the case had been solved - along with a robbery and two arsons - and Tony was exhausted. 

“I don’t understand how Watson can do this,” he complained, packing all the things he was taking to the Cup. “Day in and day out, along with the shifts at the surgery even!”

“You have never actually been in the military,” Sherlock absently told him, examining something through his microscope. “You just work for them.”

“You know, I actually forget that sometimes,” he reminisced, thinking of his boss and the conversation he and his team had once had about what it would be like in the actual armed forces.

“Ah, yes, Agent Gibbs. Yes, I have no trouble seeing that.”

Something in his tone made Tony stop and slowly turn to look at him. Eyes narrowed, he studied Sherlock suspiciously. “And you’ve met Gibbs, have you?”

“Of course, I have,” Sherlock waved a hand. “I had to know what sort of environment would prompt you to leave an already thankless job. If I had known then what I know now, I would never have allowed it.”

“Sherlock…”

But as he stared at him, he started to remember little things. One thing in particular was when he was in the hospital with the plague. A nurse had been talking to Kate and Tony was drifting in and out of consciousness. He’d thought that voice had sounded familiar, but forgot all about it in the resulting chaos.

Various crime scenes where there had been a crowd of onlookers. Various witnesses that Tony had somehow never got to get statements from…

And, if that hadn’t been enough…

“You - you -!”

“Yes,” he smiled slightly. Sherlock had been there - in disguise, of course - when a political bigwig had visited the bullpen last year. Tony had desk duty because of the remains of a flu and had been too busy dealing with pesky paperwork at the time and hadn’t looked twice at the entourage. Especially the one who’d spilled juice all over him.

“You! That was my favorite outfit! And I hate cranberry juice!”

“I couldn’t take the risk of you recognizing me,” he shrugged lightly. “You may have unique abilities, but you have always been able to see through my disguises. I suspect it’s because you yourself are skilled in the area.”

“I’m gonna get you back for that! And why have you been spying on me?” he braced his fists on his hips. 

Sherlock studied him out of the corner of his eye. “As of late,” he reluctantly began. “You’ve not… been yourself.”

“You were worried about me?” Tony blinked. “Really?” he wasn’t sure whether to be warm at the idea of a sociopath worrying over him or astonished for that same reason. 

“If you must know, yes. I’ve deduced that your work environment is not helping matters, but is not the actual reason for the concern.”

“That’s really - what do you mean, ‘not acting myself’?” he frowned. “How’ve I been acting, then?”

Sherlock frowned in thought. “I don’t seem to have words to explain, but I know that something is happening and - if anything - your so-called teammates are only making it worse.”

Tony frowned at him. Thinking, he shook his head. For one, he really didn’t want to know how the other came to that conclusion in the first place if Tony hadn’t been visiting for almost a year. Secondly, if he’d been acting differently, he would’ve thought someone would’ve said something. And thirdly… well, when he had a ‘thirdly’, he would concern himself over it. 

“If it’s as you say and I’m not acting myself, then how come -?”

“Your team has been shutting you out for quite awhile, now,” Sherlock waved his question away. “It’s not at all surprising that no-one has said something to you as they are too wrapped up in their own affairs to notice.”

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. He made a note to ask Jeanne if she’d noticed any personality changes when he got back. And Madame Director, as well, if it came to that. The whole thing when Gibbs left to and came back from Mexico probably didn’t help, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure. “Well,” he sighed as he looked at the time. “I should get going. I want to be there before it gets really late. I’m cutting it close as it is. I have to get to the portkey point by Floo in order to get to where they’ve got the Cup this year.”

Sherlock straightened and turned toward him. “Don’t take another year to visit,” he said stiffly, holding his hand out for a handshake. As usual, Tony bypassed it to grab him in a tight squeeze. Sherlock sighed and reluctantly patted his shoulder. This was one thing he disliked about Tony, but he was affectionate toward those he felt close to. For some unknown reason, Sherlock appeared to be one of them. It didn’t, however, stop a slow warmth from making its way inside of him. 

“You’re getting better at it,” Tony noted, stepping back a few minutes later with a ruffle to dark curls. “Well, at least you didn’t hit me like that one time.”

“In my defense, we were supposed to be in character.”

“Sherlock, we were ‘supposed’ to be dating at the time,” he chuckled. “We’re just lucky Lestrade managed to cover for you with that story, but how is something I’ll never know and is probably best left to deeper minds.”

Making sure his things were in order, Tony stepped in front of the fireplace and smiled at the skull. “I see you’ve been keeping that jar of powder taken care of,” he gently lifted the skull and took the jar that Sherlock had been keeping for him from under it. “It’ll keep for a few more visits,” he noted placing skull and jar back on the mantle. Tony turned to Sherlock, who was a few feet in front of him.

“Before you go,” Sherlock shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn’t like doing this, but he also had this growing curiosity ever since he found out. “John didn’t… put any magic on me, did he?”

“Well, other than the usual, no,” he said after waving his wand at him. 

Sherlock frowned at him. “What do you mean, ‘the usual’?”

“You need the usual, let’s just say that,” Tony shrugged. “It’s nothing to be concerned over. I also did a sweep and found the usual all over the place, so I think you’re in good hands.”

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully, eyeing him. “I shall have to take your word for it, then, won’t I?”

“If you like. I wouldn’t - if I were you - tell him that you know about his magic, yet,” Tony winked. “Wait for the right time to tell him. Oh, but let me meet him first. I’d like to imagine his reaction while I’m on a case and you decide to let him know.”

“It would be even more interesting if you were there,” Sherlock offered, knowing how unpredictable the Italian’s schedule really was. “And don’t tell me that you haven’t met John since you heard about him,” he added with a knowing smile.

“Well,” he shrugged. “I might have had an accident where I required some medical assistance once or twice since I heard about him…” They shared a grin. Tony paused before he turned back to the fireplace. “Oh, before I forget, I don’t suppose I could ask for a favor?”

Sherlock eyed him. “What sort of favor?”

“Nothing dangerous.”

“More’s the pity,” Sherlock huffed. “Well? What dull favor am I accepting this time?”

“Sherlock, I hardly think last time was dull.”

“It was to me.”

“…”

“Well, yes, alright. I suppose being chased through four countries may be some excitement for you. And the assassin. And the -”

“What assassin? Have you been talking to empty rooms again?”

“You’re on the clock, as you like to say.”

“Sherlock, just listen at least if you don’t want to do it.”

“I never said I wouldn’t.”

“That look on your face says everything I need to know.”

“What look on my face?”

“That one. The one you’ve got on now.”

“I do not have a look on my face.”

“It reminds me of when -”

“You’re making up lies.”

“Deductions. I’m making deductions.”

“What deductions are you making? Where’s your evidence?”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you. You’ve been keeping an eye on the team, right? I don’t suppose you would know how Boss would get a boat out of his basement, would you?”

“It would depend on why he had one in his basement in the first place.”

“I don’t know, I never asked. But I’m pretty sure it’s either that or set the attic on fire.”

“That happened _once_ and how did you know about that anyway? It wasn’t on the blog, was it?”

“Sherlock, I was almost a mile away! I could see the smoke and flames coming from that house and the only reason I knew it was you was listening to a guy yelling about a nosy British Detective and his boyfriend.”

“We were not supposed to be dating at the time…”

“So you admit you’re dating now? Cause, let me tell you, I somehow always knew you liked blondes.”

“That would indicate I had enough experience to start preferring a type in the first place.”

“Casual acquaintance, I may be, but stupid, I am not.”

“Don’t start that again.”

“You brought it up last time!”

***


	4. The Boy Who Lived

Tony smiled slightly as he finally laid out his sleeping gear. His tent was situated a bit from the crowd already there, near the outskirts of the sea of tents. Oh, there would be more coming tomorrow, he knew, and was glad he got his space when he did. He had enough to last him until after the game and he was fairly sure he didn’t need anything else.  

Sighing, he levered himself up and ducked through the flap of the two man tent. Stretching, he yawned as his magic picked up on an atmospheric disturbance closing in. ‘It’ll be alright to get a fire going,’ he decided, his magic already getting to work. It was not really all that healthy for a grown wizard to abstain from doing magic. That was why he made frequent trips to magic user friendly locations. It was also why he would do little things with his magic while at home, under lock and key. But now that he was in the Magical World, his magic could flow at will and he did so by conjuring a stack of wood from small twigs. 

He was just getting his fire to where he wanted it when he noticed the light footsteps coming from behind him, signaling company.

“Um…Sir?” he frowned as he heard a familiar voice. “I… I need some help.”

In disbelief, Tony straightened and turned to face him. “Huh?” he blinked as the young wizard in front of him came closer. “Harry Potter? I don’t believe it!”

A light breeze ruffled black hair as emerald green eyes lit with recognition. “Tony? Tony DiNozzo?”

“Hey!” he felt a wide grin stretch across his face as Harry laughed in surprise. ‘Who would have thought?’ “Looks like the Magical world is a small one, huh?” he got closer and pulled the kid hard against him. “How are you, kid?”

“Hi, Tony,” Harry gave an answering grin. “I’m alright.”

Tony let the kid step away from him and studied him with a trained eye. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. The kid he’d hung out with last summer. There was an energy to those green eyes that Tony honestly enjoyed seeing. 

When he’d started hearing about the Potters and what their son had managed to do when he was finishing school, never in a million years did he expect to actually meet the boy. But that’s what had ended up happening. And Tony was honestly surprised at how quick Harry had taken to him. Children never liked him, and he’d expected no differently when meeting with the famous wizard. That was, of course, until Tony realized that they had similar pasts. 

A kid that never quite managed to fit in at school, no matter how popular he was; had a close group of three or more friends; was into sports; the family life that Tony knew was bordering on abusive… 

It hadn’t been until later that Tony realized that he had actually been looking at a more withdrawn version of himself at that age. No wonder the kid latched onto him. It seemed like the more time they spent together, the more things Tony would find that they had in common.

“Man, it’s good to see a familiar face” Tony shook away the cobwebs. “But really. Who knew I would run into the famous Harry Potter? I am so lucky.”

“You should be,” Harry grinned, excitement turning his eyes bright. “Merlin, I thought I’d never see you again!”

Something deep inside Tony pinged at the thought that he’d never see the younger male again. “That makes two of us,” he ushered Harry to a spot on the single log in front of the fire. He was being silly. Harry was probably glad to see a friendly face, and not one who was one of his adoring fans. There was no reason to think that they’d had a significant bonding experience in the few hours they’d known each other last year. Still… “How crazy destiny is, huh?”

“I don’t mind,” Harry assured, accepting the mug of hot chocolate that Tony handed him.

“Me, either,” Tony grabbed his own mug and settled beside him. “This is a surprise I could get used to.” Especially when it brought him into the path of a good kid like Harry. Turning to study him from the corner of his eye, Tony could see the potential he had. Harry would be a great ally to have in any kind of fight that Tony could imagine. Sighing, he sipped at his chocolate and wondered what it meant that he would rather spend time with a kid than with people he was supposed to call his friends.

Harry smiled slightly. “I got lost when my friend’s dad told me and my other friend to go get something. Me and Hermione split up and I’ve been looking for her ever since.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully. ‘Being who he is and all…’ “Which means that the Ministry will be looking for you.”

“I really don’t want to be much trouble,” Harry huffed, looking exasperated.

“Hey, it happens,” Tony nudged his shoulder. ‘Especially around celebrities.’ “Not blaming you for it. Not your fault these idiots still don’t know how to organize these things.”

“Have you been here before?” he questioned. “At the Cup, I mean?”

“Once,” he shrugged. “Years ago. It was fun, but I couldn’t stay for the night like this time.” ‘And Sherlock still hasn’t heard the end of it.’ “As it is, I’m going to have to leave immediately after the Snitch is caught tomorrow. Work, you understand.”

“Do you still work at… NCIS?” Tony was surprised he remembered and the kid looked proud of himself.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” ‘And I’ll probably still be working there when I’m gone .’ “Still go to Hogwarts? What year are you in now?”

“Fourth, after the holidays.”

“Made it through Third Year, did you?”

“You have no idea,” green eyes glassed over as Tony watched. 

Curiosity piqued, Tony grinned. “That’s a story if I’ve ever heard one. Any chance of hearing it?”

Harry seemed reluctant to say. Well, heck. If Harry was anything like Tony at that age - even now, as evidenced by his job - , he’d probably had little to no resistance going headfirst into a dangerous situation. Poor kid probably thought Tony was going to go off on him, like what  probably half the Ministry of Magic did. Tony nodded. “Okay, I get it. You don’t have to tell me. Secret, right? Don’t worry, I’m not offended. Anyway, have you eaten? Not me. I was actually about to roast some hotdogs.”

“I’ve never had it,” Harry watched him get to work, setting up the hotdogs and related makings. Usually, he used magic to cook on the fire, but it’d been a long while since he’d just sat back and relaxed. That, and having a wizard unfamiliar with Muggle camping made him want to show off a little.

“I would certainly be surprised if you had,” Tony told him, spearing a hotdog and giving it to him. “It’s mostly an American food, I guess. Here, let me show you how to roast it and I’ll fix it up for you.” Because there was no way on this green earth that he was making the same mistake with Harry Potter as he did with Jimmy Palmer.

Over the thirty odd minutes that it took to cook the ‘dog, Tony told him about the less traumatizing cases he’d ever helped other teams on - as MCRT was self explanatory and Tony was sure the kid had enough nightmares as it was - and gave in when asked to talk about the MNP office. Tony made sure to make it seem like the most hilarious thing ever, because it seemed like, every time Harry laughed, he seemed to light up. Oh, sure, a lot of other kids did, too, but it was different somehow. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but almost like he wasn’t all that used to being happy or something. And anyway, his gut told him to keep it up, so he was telling Harry about one of the more dim individuals at the MNP as he ‘dressed’ the cooked hotdog.

Tony laughed heartily as the hotdog quickly disappeared. “That good or were you that hungry?”

Harry smiled ruefully. “A little of both, but it was delicious. Can I have another one?”

Tony could honestly not remember a more enjoyable camping experience - even the time he took Palmer camping and especially the time where Sherlock had hauled him off for a case that, for some reason, had them both arguing in different languages and it was a testament to both of their acting skills that they didn’t break character even when they were talking about rubber ducks - that didn’t require him to check-in every twenty minutes, so it was with reluctance that he looked at his magic-run watch as they cleaned up their trash.

“Well, on one hand,” he sighed as he looked at Harry. “I could get you back to your friends tonight and risk getting lost all night and pneumonia. On the other hand, you could stay here tonight and hole up during the storm. I could make you breakfast and then walk you back.”

He was thinking it safer to hole up when Harry frowned. “Storm?” he looked up and shook his head. “What storm?”

“The storm,” he insisted. “The one that - crap. I’m sorry, Harry. I keep forgetting that not everyone can feel these things,” he apologized, bitterly remembering all the teasing he’d had to endure as a kid when he would say things and they wouldn’t happen until later. He hadn’t understood what was happening then until his cousin, Peter Burke, had sat him down and explained. Peter was the only other person he knew of that could predict the weather with his magic.

“Huh?” Harry stared at him with big eyes. “You can tell the weather?”

“Well,” he lifted a shoulder, not really wanting to get into it. “Not all the time. I can tell weather events are going to happen and how bad they might be. I can ignore the little things, like the thunderstorm that’ll be rolling in in about a half hour. It’s the big things, like blizzards, nor’easters, hurricanes… stuff like that, that I can’t just put away for an indefinite period of time.” And he’d had the years of experience to prove it.

“I’ve never heard of that kind of magic,” Harry studied him in wonder. Tony smiled at him as he waved the younger male’s awe away modestly.

“It’s more of an ability or talent than anything else. I really can’t control it much.” ‘And Merlin knows, I’ve tried.’

“Like my ‘talent for trouble’,” Harry grinned, obviously quoting someone.

“Exactly,” he was relieved at the understanding. Not too many were as understanding.

“So, how long will it storm?” Harry wanted to know.

“Until an hour before dawn.”

***

When Harry heard the beginnings of the storm a half hour later, he looked at the time and shook his head. “I don’t believe it,” he told Tony as they took care of things before they went into the tent. “Just what you said.”

“I know,” he smiled slightly, sitting on his blue sleeping bag. Harry grinned at the NCIS logo on the upper left corner of it, green eyes lit with amusement.

“Hey, uh, do you always carry a second sleeping bag with you?” Tony transfigured his clothes into pajamas, explaining that Muggle camping was one of his favorite things to do. Well, when not hiding out for work related business. Hence, the Muggle sleeping arrangements.

“I got in the habit to.”

“Why is that?” Harry smiled slightly.

“I don’t think you want to know. I wish I didn’t, but there you go,” Tony told him. Sherlock had asked - for once - and the others at NCIS asked countless times, as well, but Tony still wouldn’t tell them. It really was better that no one else know, outside those who had been there.

They fell quiet as the storm started picking up.

Tony dug out a flashlight and pointed it up to the ceiling, casting a light glow over the inside of the tent. Harry noticed the pile of familiar snacks and looked to Tony, who grinned. “I may be American, but British snacks are just as good,” he told Harry sagely. “Here, you want a Patsy?”

They snacked and listened to the rain and gradually approaching thunder. “You know, this is a great setting for some ghost stories,” Tony inwardly winced at how many of those stories stayed ‘just’ stories. There was one in particular that he never wanted to hear again for the rest of his life. Abby still couldn’t figure out where he’d hid that picture. It was one of the times that he was forever grateful she didn’t have magic because she didn’t have access to his vault in Gringotts. Tony munched on a Chocolate Frog. “And wouldn’t you know it,” he added, showing Harry the card. “Professor Dumbledore.”

“That was the first card I ever had,” Harry admired it. “I still have it.”

“I love these things, the chocolate doesn’t hurt either.”

“I love chocolate, too,” Harry told him. He looked down at his candy and, after a while, seemed to have made some kind of decision. Harry turned back to him, determination in his eyes, and said, “I think I would like to tell you what happened last year.”

“Are you sure?” Tony studied him. “It didn’t sound to me like you wanted to before.”

“Yeah, but I think that I need to talk to someone other than Ron or Hermione.” Tony nodded, recognizing the name as the friend Harry had been looking for before meeting up with him. “I can’t talk to Professor Lupin, because he’s off doing something or other and…” he sighed. “Tony, I just want to know. Do you still stand by your belief that Sirius Black is innocent?”

Sherlock had never seen him so angry before on any subject. Tony was also certain that - when Ziva had informed them about the escape one year previous - he startled the team when he suddenly started laughing with delight. Personally, Tony rooted for Black. It went against his job, but Tony had long since suspected something was off with the entire affair. After having been framed for murder himself - the first time -, Tony could relate. It hadn’t been until Tony had started NCIS that he started thinking about the Black Case. And after reviewing the case itself… 

Tony had never thought he’d see the day that Sherlock Holmes would actually be… concerned… for his own life. But then, Tony stood by his belief that Sherlock was too nosy for his own good and it was his own fault that he hadn’t listened to Tony when he’d told him to stay at the hotel.

But I digress.

“Of course I do,” he frowned as Harry seemed to be gearing up for something. “Why?”

“Because you were right,” Harry began. “Sirius Black is innocent. He was framed. See, he, Lupin and my parents were all friends in school…”

As the thunder rolled around them, Tony quietly listened to the story of the Marauders and their decision to make everyone believe that Sirius was their Secret Keeper when, in fact, it had been the fourth member of the group, Peter Pettigrew. 

The story was then fast forwarded to when Harry had blown up his aunt and his very first experience on the Knight Bus. Tony had found, to his dismay, that he was actually sort of used to the Knight Bus. Then again, when on long car trips with the team and Gibbs behind the wheel, he would amuse himself with imagining he was actually on the Bus and that they were all going on some grand adventure as opposed to going to a crime scene. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his job, but the adventure was a better option than having someone die for him to get out of the office. 

And, if McGee and Ziva would give him wary looks in response to the maniacal grin he would find himself sporting, all the better to keep them alert. Even if Tony wasn’t actually planning anything.

Harry then went on to tell him about the Minister’s proposal, around the time where he and Tony had met the first time. Then came the part where he and the students aboard the Express were boarded by Dementors. Tony shuddered, remembering his own experiences.

“Don’t worry,” Tony patted his arm. “I passed out, too.” And he wasn’t ashamed to admit it, either. It was kind of unavoidable what with a job like his, after all.

Then, Divination class, his predicted death - which had worried him until McGonagall had set him straight -; the Boggart lesson and his greatest fear; Hogsmeade and Sirius Black on Halloween, ultimately leading to all students being herded back into the Great Hall for a sleepover; Dementors making Harry lose to the Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory; the Marauder’s Map ( it really was brilliant, even if Tony thought it sounded awfully familiar. Later, he would remember the similarities to his own group’s ‘Marauder’s Map’ from school. And it really was cool. Tony kind of wanted to use it, now.) and the subsequent knowledge of Sirius being Harry’s godfather. Tony listened about the Firebolt, Patronus and everything in-between.

Then, Black and Lupin - “Padfoot” and “Moony” - revealed the knowledge of how James, Peter and Sirius had become Animagi to keep Remus company on the full moon. Tony vaguely remembered that one of his old school mates, McCollin, was actually thinking of moving in with a ‘wolf, which was unheard of as Vampires and Weres didn’t get along in the first place. It never occurred to Tony to shun a Werewolf. Sure, most of them were jerks, but a fair number of them were just victims. Sounded like Lupin was one of the latter.

Then the Secret Keeper switch came to light and Tony could admit to a little preening about how good his instincts were about the escaped convict. The incident with Remus turning into Moony; Sirius and Harry almost being Kissed and Harry thinking he’d seen his father; waking up in the Hospital Wing and Hermione’s secret of using the Time Turner to get to classes ( which, if Tony were honest, he’d suspected at the beginning of the story ) and how she took Harry back in time to save Sirius and Buckbeak… then finally, the trip home where Sirius gave Ron his owl and the Trio finding out that Sirius had really given Harry his broom. Tony had been suitably impressed that Harry had been right about the broom not being tampered with. There was gut feeling and then there was sussing out with his subconscious magic. Tony had never actually met a Brit who could use his magic to detect hexes and curses like that. He wondered if the kids were taught about that later or at all. Americans could do it, even in their sleep.

He would know…

As the story wound down to a close, Tony whistled. “Now, that’s an adventure,” he chuckled. “Sounds fantastic.” Though somewhat close to some of his own adventures in school.

“But it really did happen,” Harry misunderstood, frowning before Tony held up a hand.

“No, I know it really happened,” he placated. “I have an open mind.” He would have to if he was going to stay at NCIS. “All I’m saying is that I wish I could’ve been there, too.”

Harry tilted his head. “Why?”

‘Maybe I’ll tell you someday about Gibbs going off to Mexico and Ziva not inviting me to her party,’ and call him childish, but the rejection hurt. “Sounds fun, is all,” Tony shrugged, chuckling at the look he got which clearly labeled him as nuts.

“Well,” Tony looked at the time. “If we’re going to be able to be awake through the game tomorrow, we should get some sleep.”

“You’re probably right,” Harry yawned. He climbed into his sleeping bag as Tony turned off his flashlight. “Hey, Tony?”

He paused in the middle of getting into his own bag and waited for him to continue. “Yeah?”

“Would you like to actually meet my Godfather?”

Oh, yes, he would. If for no other reason to slap him upside the head for his actions on that Halloween. Going after Pettigrew was something that he shouldn’t have done, not when Harry was involved. “I’m not getting my hopes up, but maybe someday.” When Tony made sure the wards were up - Harry Potter was in his tent, after all - , he settled down and sighed, staring at the top of the tent. “Hey, Harry. Mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he heard rustling as the younger man turned in his direction. “Go ahead.”

“If Black was in Azkaban and Lupin’s a werewolf,” as a member of a Government Agency, he was supposed to know about all the laws concerning werewolves and was therefore well versed in adoption rights, “and your parents… you know…, then your Aunt Petunia took you in?”

“Well, I don’t remember a lot, but I do know that Professor Dumbledore wanted me at the Dursley household. And, from what Sirius told me, it probably wouldn’t have mattered if he’d gone after Wormtail or not. I guess we’ll never know.”

Harry sounded kind of bitter and Tony held off on examining that for later. “You think that if Black had stayed with you, and not ended up in Azkaban, he still wouldn’t have been able to raise you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see why not. Well, I found out in my First Year that Mum invoked some sort of blood protection, so I guess I’d have to stay with the Dursleys… But I like to think that I could still have had contact with Sirius as I was growing up.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully. “I guess that makes sense… but, you know… Lupin could still have had contact with you…”

“I was under the impression that Dumbledore wanted to make sure that I didn’t have a big ego when school came around. It was more successful than he’d probably ever imagined…” Tony probably wasn’t supposed to hear that last part, but he did have good hearing, after all. 

“That’s understandable, but I doubt that would have ever happened,” Tony said confidently. “You’re a good kid. I’m sure you would have turned out fine.”

Harry was silent for a piece and Tony thought he’d dropped off when he heard more rustling. 

“That’s what Hermione told me after Second Year. I don’t understand how you all could just put so much faith in me.”

“Maybe one day you’ll understand. Harry, to be honest, in my line of work, I’ve met a lot of people who have to potential to be great leaders. Some of them never get the chance. But you? I think you’ll be one of the great leaders history’s ever known.”

“That’s not really possible, is it? And what about Voldemort?”

“What about Voldemort?”

“You’re not scared to say his name?” Harry sounded surprised.

“Why should I be? He’s a serial killer, Harry. I’ve come face to face with them. Fear is how they get their power. I’m not scared of any of them. If you’re not scared, then they can’t control you. And… well, to be honest, there are really only a handful of people I’m really scared of.”

“Really?” Harry was smiling, Tony could tell. “Who are they?”

“One is my boss.” That goes without saying. Tony was just good at hiding it sometimes. And with dealing with Gibbs, fear was something of a given. “One of the others is the Director we have now. Part of it is because she’s got a history with Gibbs. They’ve always got agendas, you know. Another is my teammate, Ziva. There are Muggles who are trained to kill with anything at hand, and she’s one of them.”

“Any others?” Harry prompted. “I mean, if you don’t want to tell me, I’ll understand. I’m usually not this nosy…”

“Oh, hey, no. It’s fine. Actually, it’s the mark of a good investigator to be curious about everything. There’s one… actually, it’s not so much that I’m scared of him as opposed to being scared for him. He really doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation. He’ll work himself to the ground for a case. No matter what lengths are needed, he’ll do it. He loves puzzles, you see. He can’t stand a puzzle going unsolved. Once he’s got his teeth into something, it takes a work of nigh powerful magic to make him quit. And even then, I doubt he’ll do it quietly.”

“Sounds like a good friend,” Harry smiled softly into the darkness.

“You’d think, wouldn’t you? This guy… he’s impossible. He doesn’t deal with people well and has only a handful of… well, friends. It really takes nerves of steel to deal with him.”

“It kind of seems to me - and don’t take this the wrong way - that you’re kind of fond of him. How long have you been friends?”

Tony chuckled at that. “Well, almost twenty years, if you can believe it. I started NCIS almost ten years ago. I knew him longer than that. And he still refers to me as a ‘causal acquaintance’. One of our friends told me that I need to stand up for myself and correct him, saying ‘friend’ instead. But, I don’t think I will. Causal acquaintance seems about right.”

“Like how we are?” Harry teased slightly. “Casual acquaintances?”

“I like to think we could start to be friends. I mean, if you like.”

“Of course!” Harry reassured hastily. “I can never have too many friends. I mean, besides Ron and Hermione, and Hagrid… and Sirius and Lupin… I don’t have that many that I’m really close to.”

“Friends with the famous Harry Potter, huh?” Tony grinned for a minute. “But to answer your question, I think me and him will always be casual acquaintances. That’s how he introduces me and… sometimes, when I’m looking somewhere else - or he thinks I am -, he’ll give me this look. I haven’t seen him use that look on anyone else. You know, the look someone gets when they’re in the presence of a favorite relative. Or, how a younger brother proudly shows off an older sibling. So, if he wants to say casual acquaintance, I’ll let him.”

“Another word for older brother?” Harry sighed wistfully. “I’ve never had a sibling. But, it seems kind of odd to say ‘casual acquaintance’ instead of friend.”

“If you’ve ever met Sherlock, you wouldn’t be saying that,” Tony had to laugh. 

As they went silent, Tony sighed.  

‘Associate’ or ‘colleague’ - and in Watson’s case, ‘flat mate’ - was how Sherlock introduced a friend. ’Casual acquaintance’ was how he introduced someone close to him. Granted, Tony had only heard himself referred to as a casual acquaintance. He wondered what a family member would be referred to as. 

Tony huffed a laugh as he decided to call Harry a ‘casual acquaintance’, next time he saw Sherlock. He had to wonder what the Consulting Detective would deduce about that.

In that place between wake and sleep, a thought drifted through his subconscious. There was something that Tony didn’t like about Harry’s story about Dumbledore leaving him at his Aunt’s house. 

If only he could remember what it was… 

***

The first thing that Tony was aware of was the presence of another body squished tightly against his, through two layers of sleeping bags. 

The second thing he was aware of was the other body was that of a wizard.

The third thing he registered was his stomach growling.

Disregarding the last, he slowly slit an eye open to see emerald green inches away.

“Merlin!” he shot back into the wall of the tent in surprise, having been crowded into the corner. “I could have hexed you!”

Harry laughed, grinning at him. “Sorry,” he sat up and squinted at him. “I don’t know what happened, really. I could swear I was on the other side of the tent…”

“No, it’s fine,” Tony put a calming hand on his racing heart and sighed. He was thankful that he hadn’t had a nightmare. One of the things one learned quick when dealing with an Agent / Auror was the fact that they had horrible nightmares that tended to get physical.

He’d sometimes know when he would have one and would cancel the night’s plans with Jeanne, claiming other plans with a co-worker. Sherlock, sometimes, made the mistake of touching him when he was stuck in the dream. After one particularly traumatizing incident, Tony had refused to let him in the room. Sherlock, genius that he was, found a way around that. Now, if Tony had any bad dreams, violin music would greet him in the early hours of the morning.  

Tony vaguely wondered if Watson had caught on to Sherlock, yet, being the former soldier that he was.

Harry found his glasses and looked around in the pale milky light preceding dawn. Sighing, he ran a hand through his black locks. “I guess I should start getting ready to go.”

“Hey, now,” Tony stretched. “What kind of host would I be if I let you go hungry? Italian, remember. Let’s see…”

Harry’s clothes were put back to their original state and the sleeping bags were rolled up again. They ventured out and had a simple yet filling breakfast with coffee for Tony and tea for Harry. Once Tony warded his tent, they set off to find the Weasley tent.

“It’s sort of odd, though,” Harry shook his head, looking around and hoping Hermione made it back alright. “It’s not as confusing as last night.”

“I dunno,” Tony frowned. “It was getting dark last night and you looked kind of tired.”

“Think that’s what happened?”

“Probably. And you’ve never been to one of these things before,” Tony remembered, striding alertly next to the young wizard. 

It was fifteen minutes later that Tony spotted a bushy haired youth looking in their direction.

“Harry!” she was intensely relieved as she bolted towards them. Harry lit up with relief at seeing his lost friend and happily caught her as she slammed into him. Personally, Tony thought it was like looking at himself and Abby when they hadn’t seen each other in awhile.

“Are you alright, Hermione?”

“Yes,” she sniffled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“That’s okay,” Harry smiled gently. “Tony said that it happens every once in a while.”

“Tony?” she frowned, realizing suddenly that they weren’t alone.

“Hi, there,” he waved. 

“He’s alright, Hermione,” Harry wrapped an arm around her. “He’s an American Auror.”

“Agent,” Tony corrected. “Sorry, but I guess they’re the same thing.”

“The Muggle agency NCIS. That’s where he works.”

“Don’t forget the other one. Magical Naval Personnel,” he told them. “Everyone calls it MNP. Well, I consult there on a regular basis it seems like.” He looked around. “So, we know where we’re going now?”

“I think so,” Hermione still eyed him. He gamely extracted his credentials and gave them to her. 

“Muggle and Magical badges.”

Harry frowned. “You keep them in the same wallet?”

“Sure,” Tony lifted a shoulder. “It’s spelled so that Muggles can’t see it. Unless they’re lying and are actually Magic users. Squibs can see them, too. It helps keep people calm to know there’s someone experienced to go to.”

“I can see that,” Hermione slowly gave it back. “But, you know, not all are as they claim to be.”

“Don’t tell me about moles and Agency leaks,” he told her. “I’ve had enough flushing them out to last me a few lifetimes.”

“Well, you can’t tell me that Americans aren’t just as corrupted as the Ministry.”

“I’m not arguing that. I, more than anyone, know -”

“Er, excuse me,” Harry rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “We really need to get going.”

“Oh, right,” she nodded. “Oh, Mr. Weasley! He and the others must be worried sick.”

“It’ll help having Tony with us,” Harry turned in the right direction. “Since we technically still can’t use magic or anything.”

“If you could,” Tony sighed as he spotted a growing crowd. “I would tell you to put some shields up or something, because I think we’ve been made.”

***

As Tony walked slowly back to his tent, he reflected on the group he’d just left.

Harry and his friend were safely back with their party and not a moment too soon.

Arthur Weasley had thanked him for assisting in the search and - to his dismay - a commendation was put in his MNP file.

Harry Potter was the celebrity. Everything had to be dropped to find him. Tony knew that it didn’t sit well with the kid, but what could you do? It hadn’t been his fault. He was a baby when it happened.

Tony had always thought that a celebrity had to be a celebrity only when they’d done something worthwhile. Don’t get him wrong, what Harry did was worthwhile, but he had no control over something his mother did. There was no doubt in Tony’s mind that Harry would grow to live up to his status, but until then, he really was still a kid. 

Granger and the youngest Weasley boy were shaping up to be lifetime allies for him, Tony observed. From what he’d heard about their adventures last year, they were more than willing to go to bat for him. And that is what made true friends the way they were. 

Like Harry’s father and his friends becoming Animagi for their werewolf friend, Tony and his own school friends had watched each other’s backs for seven years that it had become something of a shock to not see them as regularly as they used to.

The Trio, the Marauders and Tony’s group all shared the same loyalty to each other. Well, except for Pettigrew, but that was Marauders business. But those others, Tony knew that friendships were easy to make, but lifelong connections were harder unless they’d been through hell together.

Merlin knew, Tony and his three best friends had gone from one hell to the other. Everything from bullies and taunts to the consequences of having the Dean’s son as one of them. But, through everything, their friendship stayed true. 

And, by all accounts, a bubbly blonde that wasn’t so bubbly under the surface, a prickly son of their Dean, an aspiring author whose shyness made her the target of some terrible pranks and an Italian half-breed who had never had a friend in his life before school shouldn’t have become the best friends they did. 

But it had been in their first year, that Tony had found a calling to solve mysteries. 

As the others started to befriend him, they started getting pulled along with him on those mysteries. Soon, others were going to them for help to find a lost trinket, or pet, or something else and they found themselves working together. Something none of the four of them had previously thought possible. Mysteries just had a way of pulling people together, didn’t they?

Pranks, too, but the Trio’s relationship - from what Harry had told him - had been cemented by mysteries. As it happened to Tony and his friends.

And like Tony and his friends, there was bound to be some rough times ahead for the Trio. But Tony and his friends had survived it. And Harry and his friends would, too. 

Giving them his contact information ensured that, even if Tony had to sneak into Hogwarts himself to do it.

Although, given the Headmaster’s strange habit of offering the Defense position to him, Tony couldn’t foresee anything that could keep him from doing what he had to. Because now, the Trio had someone else on their side. 

It was just as the Dean of his school had told him in third year: Tony, son, you have a way of collecting strays and interesting characters. But, at this point, I’m not sure whether this is going to work for you or against you in the future.

Well, he was older now and he apparently still had that talent going. Sherlock and Abby and McGee and Gibbs and now apparently the most famous Wizard in the world.

And you know what? He wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Unaware of those ‘strays and characters’ he would eventually befriend and later adopt into his makeshift family, Tony arrived at his tent. Seeing that he had some time before he had to start getting busy, he thought a lie-down was in order, especially with the morning he’d had.

As he lay down in his tent, he found himself drifting off to memories of his past. And a long ago train ride to his new school where he found himself looking into the watery brown eyes of his first best friend as she begged help to find her late grandmother’s trinket.


	5. The Favor

It was a few months later – November – that Tony had remembered his visit to Baker Street.

He was at his desk, in the middle of writing a response to Harry and Hermione’s letter complaining about Ron and his behavior, when Abby started shrieking.

Each and every agent on the floor was immediately on alert.

“GIBBS! GIBBS! Oh my _gosh_! I can’t believe it! I really, really can’t! I –“

“Abby?” Ziva frowned as the Goth rushed up to them, waving her tablet around. “What has happened?”

“It’s like the best thing to happen on my birthday in for- _ever_!” her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling with absolute adoration and her body thrumming with excitement. “I never once in a million years thought this could happen. But it has and I can’t believe it. It’s _awesome_ and I can’t believe he – _he_ – of all people wished me a happy birthday!” she squealed.

“Who?” McGee frowned, stepping forward to try and steady her arm so that he could see the webpage that she’d pulled up.

“Well, as you know, I was doing some evidence review for one of the others and my alert started going off because I’d tagged one of the webpages I follow. Right, so anyway, I’m skimming through it and I suddenly come to one of the last lines. Here, take a look!”

Gibbs, Ziva and McGee peered at the screen as Tony suddenly remembered something.

Before he’d left to go to the Cup, he’d asked Sherlock for a favor. It seemed like he’d done it, after all.

Tony got up to join the others and saw the familiar design of his friend’s Science of Deduction website.

_Also, before I forget, and have a casual acquaintance never let me forget, it has recently come to my attention that a fan of mine has a birthday coming up recently. So, Ms. A. Scuito, allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your birth anniversary._

“Can you believe it?” Abby could hardly stand still. “I mean it’s him! _Sherlock Holmes_! He’s …”

***

John Watson sighed as he blew on his tea to cool it, heading to his armchair and setting the cup down before picking up his laptop and logging onto his blog.

Almost immediately, he found almost four pages’ worth of comments and curiously started from the last page, working his way forward to where the present thread continued.

_‘Birth anniversary’, really?_

John read the name as AgtCslAcqtce and wondered about it, especially as he read his own flatmate’s response.

 **You wanted me to acknowledge her, didn’t you?** __

_Well, yeah, but you didn’t have to put it like that._

**That is how I am. You, John and Lestrade know that.**

_Yeah, but it’s kind of old fashioned, isn’t it?_ ****

**So is ‘Sherlock’, so I suppose that fits. And do I look like I care about being ‘old-fashioned’? Dull.**

_It’s not so much your appearance, as opposed to your personality._ ****

**Why should I care about my so-called ‘personality’, in the first place?**

_That’s not what I mean, Sherlock. Anyone who’ve spent more than a week knowing you would tell you that you care about your appearance. You just don’t care about how people perceive you._

**While I agree that appearances can mean the difference between a solved case and an unsolved one, what do** **want me to do? People are so dull and boring that they don’t actually matter in regards to thoughts.**

 _You mean like how everyone’s convinced you and your flatmate are more than a platonic relationship?_ ****

**Exactly! They only see what their eyes tell them. Admittedly, it’s not much.**

_So… What happened in Haiti wasn’t what I thought it was?_

**Well, you’re different. Most of what you see is exactly what it is. While John is progressing, you have quite a few things over him.**

_Enlighten me._

**You are an active member of a government agency, but you have enhanced sight, smell and hearing. That is a natural advantage. And, yes, you do make impressive leaps of logic, however, you are far from my level of expertise. But in that sense, both you and John have potential. You more than he.**

_I bet you anything he’s reading this and thinking of hitting you for that._

**He is important in his own way. He has nothing to get upset about.** __

_You and the rest of us have different definitions about what upsets us._

**A majority of the population is no matter.**

_Sherlock, when you tell someone that they’re, I don’t know, fat, it doesn’t mean they’ll let it run off like you. You don’t care about it and not everyone is like that._

**You didn’t care about it either in Japan.**

_Well, in Japan I was in very real danger of being shot and then guillotined._

**You were not.**

_I had a damn sniper on my tail and a sword honing in on my neck!_

**While that may be true, I was taking care of that sniper and being in danger of being guillotined would imply that you had a guillotine in front of you.**

_How was I supposed to know where you were?! Here I am, running for my life – regardless of what’s in front of me - and you’ve gone off on one of your tangents and I’m running in the pouring rain, remember. I can’t see what’s in front of me._

_You’d run off and left me to go the other way – which, for the last time, is not cool – where I inevitably run into the bad guys that you had run off to find. Tell me what’s wrong with this picture._

**A slight miscalculation.**

_‘A slight miscalculation’, my foot! I thought for sure I was a goner!_

**I would have found you before it got to that point.** __

_Like you found me in Romania? I don’t think so._

**Romania was a mistake. And I told you to trust me.** __

_The only mistake I made in Romania *was* trusting you! And agreeing to Switzerland was my first mistake!_

**Switzerland was three years before Romania and has absolutely no connection to each other.**

_Yeah, no connection to each other if you don’t count the fact that we were both in danger of drowning, which I so DO!_

**We – for the final time – were not in danger of drowning. I had it taken care of.**

_You were unconscious for both times! And it’s your fault! If you hadn’t provoked me, I wouldn’t have knocked you out._

**I hadn’t provoked you. I only told you that you could require some alterations to either your appearance or your attitude when undercover.**

_That’s the point of undercover work! You have to alter everything, like I think you know well._

**And I was giving you advice.** __

_Advice that got you knocked out in short order. Though, I’d admit to thinking I’d learned my lesson in Libya about cleaning your clock while on a case._

**You keep referencing Libya, yet you don’t clarify. I have no idea what you mean by half of what you say.**

_Two words for you: Empty rooms._

**You said that before, as well, and John says something like that on a regular basis, yet you both still make no sense!**

_I’ll tell you what makes no sense, you and your ridiculous obsession with talking to someone when they’re not even in the same country!_

**John was in the country when I saw you last.**

_No, he wasn’t, he was at a conference somewhere else. And I swear, if you don’t stop deleting things, one day you’ll delete something you need._

**Highly unlikely.**

_That’s what you said **before** Tennessee!_

**We have been over this time and time again.** __

_Yes, I wonder why. Every time we go over this, something else happens._

**It does not.**

_Yes, it does._

**Does not.**

_Need I remind you what happened on Thanksgiving the year after we met?_

_And don’t say you deleted it, because I swear to all holy, Sherlock Holmes, one day I will have the chance to shoot you and I’ll gladly take it._

**You wouldn’t. Every time you’ve had to resort to physical violence on my person, you would feel horribly guilty.**

_That isn’t what happened in Columbia._

**No, it wasn’t. You had to hold up your cover very well. And you have yet to apologize for it.**

**Quite honestly, I’m impressed with the level of detail you used.**

_Uh, yeah… about that._

_Buddy, I don’t know if you ever figured this out, but…_

_I wasn’t playing a cover._

**What are you on about? Of course you were.** __

_No… I wasn’t._

**I’m sure that’s what you’re telling yourself.** __

_You have honestly no idea, do you?_ ****

**No idea about what?** __

_How annoying you can be about undercover work._

This went on for almost three more pages, but John honestly couldn’t care less.

He was alternately sympathetic and amused by the entire exchange. Even Lestrade chimed in once in a while to tag-team against the Consulting Detective.

But there was one comment in particular that made him laugh out loud for hours.

**And don’t think I didn’t see that two summers ago.**

_Was this before or after I caught you in the middle of another conversation with no-one?_

**You mean Lestrade.**

_No, he was at a conference in Tunisia. I’m talking about Alaska._ ****

**Oh. You mean my Archenemy.**

_No, really. If Watson’s your flatmate, and I’m a casual acquaintance, what do you call an actual member of your family?_

_This is presuming you actually have any._

**Unfortunately.**

_Unfortunately, what? Oh, and about your latest case? There is no way the maid didn’t do it._

**Of course she didn’t do it. She had no motive.**

_Check the girlfriend._

**The brother doesn’t have a girlfriend.**

**And the victim is straight, as well.**

_Yeah… I wasn’t talking about them…_

**Oh. It’s always _something_!**

 

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you following, I put this story before Harry meets Tony at the Quidditch World Cup.


End file.
